Phoenix Rising
by Dulce Ambrosia
Summary: AU: Ohtori, Kiryuu, Tenjou, Kyouichi: four families embroiled in an ancient feud over pearls and power. Utena is torn between family honor, a history with Touga, and a hated bloodoath to the Ohtori's in this tale of mystery, drama, passion, and payback
1. Chapter 1

Many thanks to my sister and beta reader for her support in getting me to write again and her feedback and edits with this story. Enjoy!

**Prologue**

Thousands of years ago, the gods engaged in a terrible war to determine who would rule the expanse of land, sea, and sky. Pet dragons roared in fury as they fought alongside their masters, and the universe quaked with the powers let loose by the desperate warriors. Tears from the fallen, embittered deities floated to the bruised lands below and settled quietly in oceans, rivers, and streams. The tears became luscious dewdrops: cream, black, blue, orange, and pink toned pearls.

None were more perfect or more potent than Dios's Tears—six pearls infused with the young god's deep compassion and sorrow as he sacrificed himself to lock the destructive wild powers of the other gods. The pearls scattered across the earth, repelled from each other by the force Dios's pain. To unite them again would crack open the world and unleash the powers on the world once more.

Or so it was said.

_The Dragon's Fire Pearl. _

Dynasties built on the bloody backs of slaves, then soldiers, and pearl divers began hoarding the old stories, coveting the magic for themselves and their family names. Ohtori. Kiryuu. Kyouichi. Tenjou. Each boasted an ancestor from the time before time, when the gods dueled and the world cried in despair.

_The Rosette Pearl. _

Time passed, lives altered, loves severed.

_Pearl of Dios. _

Empires grew and families guarded their secrets and their pearls as jealously as lovers. Rumors grew about the appearance of one of the legendary Dios's Tears, only to have the "source" found dead the next morning.

_The Midnight Star Pearl. _

Eyes watched as power shifted, settled, and then shifted again. From Japan to Singapore to Australia to Panama to Cuba, the pearl families expanded their reach and their influence.

_The Hope Pearl._

Murder, deceit, seduction, and subterfuge . . . the relationships between the sons and daughters of the feuding pearl families left no holds barred. Until The Ohtori unwittingly saved the lives of The Tenjou's son and his new bride.

_The Bride Pearl._

Who knew after all this time whether the ancient rumors about the Ohtori family were true. They could not really possess four of Dios's Tears . . . could they? And where were the last 2 pearls?

_Kiss of Dios Pearl._

Memory is evanescent, but pearls are forever. And some are worth killing for.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

The angry wind whipped Utena's pale pink hair into cotton-candy froth as she tensely waited for a response. A black-green sky coated with lightening bolts had passersby hustling to find shelter against the impending storm. Nervously glancing at the sky, strangers muttered to each other in hushed uncertain tones how a storm could develop so quickly without any warning from the weathermen.

One look at the rigid blonde woman's face standing next to Utena would have answered their question. Sparks crackled from Kanae Ohtori's small frame, and her eyes had become frozen violet crystals ready to pierce, bloody, and maim on impact.

She stood a far cry from the sandy-haired "princess" of the Ohtori Dynasty, constantly photographed with coiffed hair, manicured nails, and guileless smiles. The paparazzi would have failed to recognize any trace of their new "it" girl in the dangerous figure poised in the midst of a thunderstorm.

"Are you sure?" Kanae asked Utena, her taut frame quivering repressed rage.

Utena gave a curt nod, anger and frustration fighting for a dominant place in her thoughts and voice. How had it all gone so terribly wrong?

"The Dragon's Fire Pearl was my personal favorite," Kanae continued in that curious voice, "and now you tell me that _my_ favorite pearl, one our pearls, one of _the_ pearls is gone? Taken? Stolen!"

Thunder boomed as Kanae thumped her palm with her delicately-boned fist, punctuating the words.

"_Jefa_, I promise you that I checked into every single detail of the transfer of the Dragon myself." Utena retorted. "Impossibly, these guys knew where the pearl was coming from and exactly where it was going."

"Impossibly is right Utena. _Impossibly_. Only a select few in the family knew about the Dragon's Fire, and even less knew where we kept it and where I was moving it to." Steel sharpness layered the rage in Kanae's voice, and if Utena were anyone else she would have been lying broken and bruised on the floor from the power of that voice alone.

But Utena was _The_ Tenjou, and her family was descended from gods. She stared unflinchingly at the debutante. "Then the Ohtori have a problem, Kanae. The Dragon's healing fire is out of Ohtori hands, and Wakaba is in a coma because of those bastards."

Fat raindrops began to barrel down from the sky in furious plops on and around the two women.

"Of course, with the Dragon's Fire gone, the Ohtori are one step farther from claiming eternity's power." Utena innocently continued with wide eyes.

Kanae pressed her lips into a bloodless line, but pretended to ignore the pink-haired girl's taunt.

"You may hate me Utena and you may hate my family, but we own you body and soul until the debt is paid." Kanae recited grimly. Dios knows she had said it to the obstinate girl at least a hundred times over the past four years.

Flashes of blue fire lit Utena's eyes at the Ohtori heiress's words as Kanae's cell phone began to ring. Opening a Burberry umbrella with one hand while answering her phone wit the other, Kanae turned away from Utena and listed for a few minutes, occasionally speakingin a feigned happy voice.

Snapping the phone shut, Kanae rolled her eyes. "We'll finish this conversation later. I need to get ready for the press conference. Damage control has officially begun— my father wants me to stand next to him dripping in jewels and look properly mystified at what the "smart people" are talking about."

"As if he doesn't know _precisely_ who he put in charge of security and operations for the family four years ago." Kanae finished, snorting in derision, a twinge of the hurt at her father's mandated subterfuge leaking onto her face.

Walking toward her purple Mercedes-Benz, Kanae shouted over her shoulder, "Call a meeting at your place tonight. 10 o'clock sharp. And clean your living room for Dios's sake, it's a mess!"

Utena grinned. She knew how much her "organized" mess pissed Kanae off, which was why she wasn't going to touch a thing when she got home.

Jogging in the downpour toward her black Jeep Cherokee, thank Dios she had changed into a tracksuit before heading out, Utena's mind drifted to the sight of Wakaba earlier that morning, hooked up to machines and monitors as she struggled for life in that bleak hospital room.

'I should visit her again and see if she's awake,' Utena thought with a wince. She could feel the beginnings of a thrumming headache press insistently against her forehead.

Looking down at the silver ring trapped on her finger, Utena bit her lip and rubbed her thumb in a well-worn gesture over the ornate rose seal locking her life in a constant battle with her enemy.

--------------------

"Okay Anthy, I'll see you in a bit . . . and don't forget to bring the chocolate-chip cookie dough cheesecake, you know it's her favorite. She's going to be in a shitty mood and may need the distraction." Shiori clicked off her crystal-studded cell phone and turned back to the cards and chips lying in front of her.

"I thought chocolate-chip cookie dough was _your _favorite," Keiko drawled, an impish smile curling her lips as she dealt two cards to the other two players at the table.

Shiori giggled and brushed her long hair back in a careless gesture. "Well, Kanae's not the only one who needs a distraction. This guy at the frats was totally checking me out last night, and we were just dancing and then Jason, like, got all stupid and angry."

"You could do so much better than Jason, Shiori. I mean, when he's drunk he gets all over other girls, and then he gets really clingy and calls you all the time trying to figure out where you are." Mitsuru rolled her eyes at the expression of indignation and sheepishness blooming over Shiori's face.

"I know guys, it's just, like, you know, he's really sweet when we just sit and talk together…" Shiori weakly tried to defend her relationship over the high-pitched fussing of her two best friends.

Utena stretched out on the forest green reclining chair and tried not to gag. The non-identical triplets, or the "Twerpy Trio" as Utena called them, may have been some of the Ohtori family's best guards, but Utena could not get past the inane chatter of the co-eds whenever they got together.

"Utena, you should, like, stop frowning so much. You're going to get those ugly old woman wrinkles." Misturu called over, taking a break from Jason-bashing.

Shiori and Kanae burst into more giggles before jumping to a new conversation about Paris Hilton's latest album release.

Closing her eyes and trying to refrain from bashing the girls' heads together, Utena's mind jumped back to earlier that day, when she'd sufficiently de-compressed enough from her "meeting" with Kanae to go to the hospital and check on Wakaba.

When Wakaba had first been recruited by Kanae to serve the Ohtori, she had insisted on calling Utena daily to go out to lunch. When Utena had ignored the phone calls, Wakaba had taken to showing up unannounced at the museum office where Utena passed her day hours as an appraiser and interpreter of ancient maps, a large smile on her face and on her heart.

Utena didn't know what in Dios's name was wrong with the short brown-haired girl. Wakaba quickly learned Utena's history and status from the triplets' gleeful whispers, but rather than turning from Utena in distrust she had gone out of her way to befriend the pink-haired firecracker.

Weeks of perseverance on Wakaba's part eventually paid off when Utena grudgingly began to admit to herself that she enjoyed Wakaba's company and looked forward to the times when they could hang out away from "work."

No one looking at the two of them could have understood the amicable bond that had developed between the somber Tenjou and the jolly new trainee of Kanae's.

As Utena had walked into Wakaba's private hospital suite, she was struck by how tiny and helpless her fierce friend looked on the bed.

Leg and arm in casts, bandages across her upper body, catheter inserted into her arms, ventilator beeping incessantly in the background . . .The room hummed anxiety and distress as Utena forced herself to sit beside Wakaba, her hands shaking with the strain of not jumping up and dashing from the room.

Her pulse accelerating, Utena's skin twitched with remembered panic but she forced herself to lean over and give the unconscious girl a brief kiss on the forehead. Wakaba had nearly given her life to protect the Dragon's Fire Pearl. For Kanae, the next step would be reconnaissance and recovery of her family's hallowed power. For Utena, it would be retribution.

Counting backwards in Greek to regain some control, Utena had risen from the bed and walked out the door, her strappy healed sandals clacking against the silence of the hospital ward.

"Mistress Tenjou," one of the Ohtori bodyguards assigned to watch Wakaba's suite had rushed forward, apprehensively keeping his eyes trained on the ground when Utena had stopped and turned around.

"The guardian had this clutched in her hand when we found her." Hand wobbling with nervousness, the bodyguard handed Utena a torn sheet of paper.

Utena's eyebrows raised at the name the bodyguard had given Wakaba, but she reached out and took it with a quiet "Thank you."

Turning back, the most powerful and most dangerous of Ohtori's elite warriors strode down the hallway and out of the hospital.

Wanting to put as much distance between herself and the hospital as possible, Utena had waited for her breathing to return to normal to examine the paper. With a few crude strokes, obviously drawn with Wakaba's pained hand, a crooked bird soared above a scratched set of lines.

Leaning against her car, Utena had brought the paper closer to her face, trying to figure out what Wakaba was hoping to convey in the sketch. A bird flying above some lines—had Wakaba used a faulty pencil?—or were those sticks? Or maybe fire? A bird flying above fire . . . .

Utena's face had turned white and she slumped against her car, unseeing eyes scanning the area as she tried to contain a shout that would have rocked half the city.

A _phoenix_. Wakaba had drawn a freaking phoenix flying out of fire.

The phoenix, a symbol of resurrection and renewal, was the chosen crest of one of the most powerful and devious pearl families in the world. Known more for their nightclubs, hotels, and casinos due to the entrepreneurship of the youngest members of the clan, the Kiryuu connection to pearls was long since forgotten to all but the select few still fighting for the trapped powers of the ancient gods.

The. Kiryuu.

'No, no, no, no, no, nononononononono!' Utena gave a silent cry, shaking her ponytail in denial and crumbling the paper into her tightened fist.

A tiny sliver of heartache pierced Utena's chest as a picture of Touga's laughing face flashed across her vulnerable thoughts.

Utena grabbed the memory, and with a ruthlessness that would have made her father proud, she and shoved it back to the dusty recesses of her thoughts. Oh Dios, her father . . .Touga . . .

It was too much. The Tenjou ruthlessly locked the memories away before they could consume her, fixing her mind shields until she was again composed. Serene. Controlled.

She had no desire to dwell on the past. Not now. Not ever.

--------------------

Several hours later, post-cheesecake and a rousing game of Texas Hold 'Em, the triplets and Kanae laughed merrily around Utena's heavy oak kitchen table, their glasses leaving water stains despite the coasters Utena had intentionally left by the napkins.

"Misturu," Kanae murmured, half-jokingly, "remind me never to teach you girls a card came that involves money."

Utena remained in her recliner, silently working on a cross-word puzzle and wincing every few minutes as she heard glasses thump on her mother's old table. Those water stains were going to take _forever_ to come out.

'You really need to stop thinking about killing those girls,' Utena chided herself, 'You're going to get indigestion.'

Dios, it had been an hour already. When was Kanae going to start the meeting so they could get the hell out of her apartment?

Across the living room, Anthy stretched out across her yoga mat in setu bandasana or bridge position. Her long curly purple hair was piled in a messy ponytail, and her usually piercing green eyes were closed, a look of serene concentration smoothed across her face. A homemade banana-blueberry-and-non-fat-yogurt smoothie perched carefully beside her, the prize she daily indulged in when she completed her routine.

Finally, with moans and a shriek of delight from Keiko, the poker game was over. Outside the half-moon hung like a dim lamp in the inky sky, and wispy clouds circled the light like tantalized insects.

Kanae cleared her throat delicately, and brushed a perfect lock of blonde hair behind her ear. She had come straight from the press conference, and still wore her elegant Christian Dior blue sheath with blue-kissed freshwater pearls.

'The devil wore Chanel.' Utena grimaced.

"Ladies, the press conference this afternoon was a fiasco. As we expected, the police have no leads and no witnesses to the theft of my pearl."

Her mouth tightened in frustration. "And worst of all, the Kiryuu and the Kyouichi stood their gloating with their despicable children as the press threw questions at my father. I would have jumped right off that stage and kicked the smug smiles off their faces, the bastards."

"Do you think they know it was one of, you know, one of _the_ set that got stolen?" Anthy asked in a muffled voice due to being in ardha sirsasana or half-headstand position.

"I'm almost positive. They hovered like vultures around a fresh carcass, relishing my family's disgrace. They wouldn't have been so excited about the prospect of the Ohtori losing any of the other large pearls in our collection."

Kanae got up and paced the room, her heels clicking softly as she carefully avoided Anthy's smoothie. "Oh, they know," she repeated softly to herself. "I never thought one of them would actually have the nerve to steal from _us_."

Kanae's eyes glowed at violet stab of heat, and the lights in the room flickered briefly in response.

"Somebody is either very very clever or very very stupid. The Ohtori are destined to unite Dios's Tears and harness the powers of the gods of fire, earth, wind, and sky. Any other family who thinks they have a chance are seriously fooling themselves."

The triplets nodded their heads in unison at Kanae's impassioned declaration, anger and indignation at the dared affront to the Ohtori family etched visibly on their faces.

Utena's eyes narrowed briefly at Kanae's reference to the supposed predestined fate of the Ohtori family, lightly shaking her head at the audacity.

'And how are you planning on getting your claws on the last two of Dios's Tears, Kanae?' Utena asked herself, malice dripping like acid spills from the unspoken thought.

Kanae continued talking. "As you are all aware, Wakaba's recuperating in the Ohtori suite at the hospital. She still hasn't regained consciousness, so unfortunately we don't have any insights into what exactly happened or who she saw."

Utena's mind flew to Wakaba's sketch hidden in her nightstand drawer. Keeping the information to herself for now meant the Ohtori might suffer. That was a good enough reason for her to keep her mouth shut.

Falling into a heap on her yoga mat, Anthy eagerly reached for her smoothie. "So what are you going to do _Jefa_? What would you have us do?" Her soft Trinidadian accent asked between smoothie gulps.

"To take out Wakaba, whoever stole the Dragon's Fire must be very good. His or her training and experience is probably comparable to yours." Kanae began.

Muttering filled the room as the triplets looked at each other and then Utena and Anthy in amazement. Who could claim better training than the sworn guardians of Ohtori, students of the grand Mikage himself?

"The police are completely useless. My father has advised me to retrieve the pearl _before_ the annual unveiling of select Ohtori collection pieces at the Queen's Museum. He had promised the Queen's sister she could wear the Dragon's Fire for the evening. " Kanae declared, slightly gritting her teeth.

'In other words,' thought Utena, 'the old bastard made a stupid promise and is now giving you hell so he doesn't lose face.' 1 month. That was cutting it pretty close, even for the little blonde she-devil.

"Let's go to the Kiryuu and the Kyouichi tomorrow and bust some asses." Shiori thumped her fist on the table in emphasis.

Utena winced again for her poor table and glanced at the co-ed in surprise. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had heard a serious normal thought come out of the Shiori's mouth. Even when Kanae had almost been kidnapped two years ago, Shiori had maintained sweet spaciness full-time.

"Dios, I wish it were that simple Shiori, I really do." Kanae answered.

"It can be. That simple I mean," Anthy injected, her eyes hard as emeralds, "we just have to choose our targets carefully."

Counting of the fingers of her hand, she continued, "Saoinji just opened a gentlemen's club in the Red Light District that supposedly tailors to the darkest and most depraved of the male appetite." Kanae gave a little shiver at Anthy's words. From the few perfunctory social functions all the families had allowed their young children to attend, Kanae had tried to avoid being the target of Saoinji's cruel sense of humor.

"Also, Touga and Nanami are co-owners of that new nightclub, The Academy, and Touga also manages the adjoining restaurant Castle in the Sky. The Kiryuu heir has also just ended a high-profile romance with Juri Arisugawa that sources tell me was a front for highly profitable and highly illegal insider trading."

Kanae started in confusion. "Do you mean Juri Arisugawa the model? With _Touga_?"

The triplets gave her a withering glance. "What! Kanae, no joke, where have you been living? Under a rock? Her face was freaking everywhere." Keiko whipped out the latest copy of _Vogue_ from her pink canvas bag and flipped to an ad, pointing gleefully to the statuesque orange-haired lady.

Touga's "fling" with the Parisian model and Olympic fencing champion had dominated the paparazzi's lenses for over three months. Juri had been the new face for some high-end fashion house and while her stylishly-draped figure had been plastered on billboards, her stylishly plump bank account had swelled from the sale of stocks before their announced losses.

Kanae nodded her head slowly. "Ohhhh, okay, I remember seeing her at a fashion show last month in Tokyo. I think I have one of the dresses she modeled in one of my closets. But I thought Touga was sleeping with some European countess?

Utena kept her face carefully blank.

"A nightclub is a good place for a quick, dirty exchange. Dancing hotties, no lights, lots of liquor. No notice, no muss, and no fuss." Misturu inserted helpfully.

"He's so hot," Shiori mooned playfully to Kanae, "that every magazine has pictures of him with a different stick-thin model or royal or heiress."

"Exactly. And a gentleman's club provides a 'safe' place to do business with little stress." Anthy's voice created another layer to conversations that were beginning to clutter the living room like floating pieces of paper.

Shiori started chattering about the latest summer fashions, and Anthy and Misturu raised their voices to better hear each other, creating a tangled web of pitch and sharpness and texture that beat against Utena's brain like a reverberating pulse of blinding illuminating lights.

"So what." The quiet words cut across the chatter with all the sleekness and coldness of a samurai sword, the first real words Utena had spoken since the girls had arrived at her apartment.

Kanae blinked. "Excuse me?" She drawled.

Utena turned her head and locked eyes with Kanae. "So. What." She drew each word out.

"What are you going to do, _Miss_ Ohtori? Sit here and whine to us about how daddy is breathing fire down your ass? You've had us sitting here for hours, and I have to be at work tomorrow at 6 am to receive a shipment from Kenya."

Kanae's knuckles tightened at Utena's words, but she refused to rise to the bait.

"I'll tell you what I am going to do, _Tenjou_," Kanae began, intentionally leaving off the "Miss" to remind Utena of the facts of her current position. She was slightly disappointed when Utena did not even blink at the obvious slight.

Turning to the triplets, Kanae proceeded to outline their assignment—chatting up patrons and staff at The Academy and breaking into the back rooms to look for any information. Mitsuru, Keiki, and Shiori listened attentively to their instructions and giggled to each other. Going to The Academy would be too much fun, especially since they had 2-for-1 drink specials before 11:30 pm on Wednesdays and Fridays.

"Anthy," Kanae said in a warm voice, "your brother's hosting another fundraiser for a shipwreck expedition in the Philippines, and he's invited Saoinji as a Diamond Plate guest. I can't go since my father wants me in Milan for an interview with a fashion magazine, so I need you to bat your long eyelashes and get a seat at Saoinji's table."

Kanae poked the Anthy's shoulder teasingly. "With you working your magic on the fool, I am sure you can learn something of use."

'Better you than me,' Kanae thought wryly. She still tried to keep the hell away from Saoinji whenever she could get away with it.

Anthy gave a small frown, almost imperceptible but for the tightening of her cheeks, but nodded her head to Kanae. She _hated_ her brother Akio's parties, especially the ones when he was trying to raise money for another treasure hunt. And she was going to have to find a replacement yoga instructor to teach her classes next Friday so she could go shopping and get her hair done for the fundraiser. Damn!

Finally, Kanae's eyes returned to Utena, the warmth in them oozing out like lava streaming down the sides of an erupting volcano.

"And then there's Utena." Kanae flexed her shoulders, popping out the kinks without rumpling her exquisite dress. "Bitchy Utena, always angry at the world and ready to jump down the throat of everyone, even if she's just wishing you 'Good morning'."

'Now that's not fair,' Utena thought, 'I mean, I'm nice to Wakaba.'

Kanae knew very well why Utena was not in a good mood and could never be in a good mood about anything to do with the Ohtori family.

"Never send an amateur to do a professional's job. That's what Mikage taught us, and that's why I'm sending you after the leader of the pack." Kanae circled closer to the reclining chair and practically loomed over the girl.

"We can't afford any more screw-ups. Bring me back his fucking red head so I can mount it on the wall." Kanae roared softly, the words falling like icy shards on Utena's head.

It irked her that The Tenjou was the best of the best. She was like a wild beast, under the ownership of the Ohtori but refusing to yield or be tamed. This wildcard status made Utena dangerous and Kanae just annoyed.

She had known this was coming. All her instincts and all her training had boiled down to this one moment Utena had been anticipating and dreading since Kanae had walked through the door.

But she was safe as long as she didn't let emotion get involved, right? She was a professional. She was The Tenjou. She would go in and get the pearl and maybe actually collect a few shards of her heart still lying on Touga's floor. She should probably kick his ass while she was at it no no that would make him think that she still cared and he would make her weak again and—

"Fine." Utena answered Kanae, leaning forward in the chair so the blonde was forced to lean back again or have their heads knock. Utena smiled mockingly at Kanae's retreat. Coward.

Kanae sniffed and smoothed her hands down her dress to recover her composure. "Excellent," she clipped, "this meeting is now adjourned. Ring Chu-Chu if anything comes up while I'm in Milan."

The Ohtori's only daughter elegantly exited the apartment, the triplets yapping at her heels in excited vocalized bursts about cute boys on campus and music trivia.

Anthy slowly rolled her yoga mat and slipped her manicured toes into designer flip-flops. Running her slim hands through the purple strands and retying the ponytail, she eyed Utena warily but made no move toward the recliner.

Utena kept her gaze steady on the dusky-skinned girl. She had nothing against the Himemeya family, although privately she felt the brother and sister were fools to entangle with the Ohtoris.

Anthy sighed with a twinge of disappointment at Utena's silence and left the apartment. If only the girl wasn't so damned stubborn about everything.

--------------------

The thunderstorm continued to tear across the late night sky, pounding and shaking the earth with gusty winds and heavy rains and brief bursts of lightning jolts. Humming parts of _Rhapsody in Blue_, Utena lay in the living room, a steaming cup of hot chocolate resting on one side. Her black cat Prince lay sprawled, nudging the ball of light laid carefully on the floor beside them.

Tears fell in tiny rivulets down her cheeks, and every few seconds she would unsuccessfully wipe a few crystals away with the back of her pale hand.

Thunderstorms reminded her of her parents. And the last day she had seen them alive . . .

Her aunt had held her during thunderstorms, when the young pink-haired child had woken her with pained screams in the middle of the night.

Touga had held her, rubbing his hands over her back and shoulders and kissing her neck to distract her from the booms outside.

Touga . . . Utena groaned and lightly banged her head against the floor. Even in the midst of her bought of self-pity and weariness, the idiot managed to insidiously enter her thoughts. Damn.

The cycle of ambitious self-destruction, family anguish, pride, deceit, theft, murder—Utena knew deep down in her soul that it would never end until one of the families finally united Dios's Tears.

Her family's future lay in her currently helpless hands, as she lay bound as a lapdog of service to the loathed Ohtori.

But not for much longer. Utena rubbed her hand along Prince's back, her eyes fixed on the precious stone shimmering dangerously beside her.

_As falls the dew on quenchless sands, blood only serves to wash ambition's hands(1)._

_------------------- _

1 The quote is from the dark and dreamy poet, Lord Byron. Please please review! I would love to hear what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2**

_How do you know you can trust me? You don't . . ._

The deep murmuring voice was the first thing she heard when her mind woke up, floating thoughts coming together in a brilliant moment of consciousness.

Breathing in the tangy yet unfamiliar scent clinging to the sheets, Utena slowly opened her eyes to an original Degas painting dominating the wall across from the bed.

And the tall red-haired man, visible in the next room through the open door, speaking softly into a cell phone.

She could feel the softness of the champagne silk sheets against her skin, and her feet and calves lay exposed to the cool air. The fragile silver belly chain that she never took off was pushed up against one breast.

_What the . . ._ Momentary panic dissolved as the events of last night crashed through the remaining tendrils of Utena's sleepy mind. The Academy. Talking. Drinking. Touga.

She could feel the softness of the champagne silk sheets against her skin. Shit.

-------------------------

**14 hours earlier . . .**

"Wait, where's Mitsuru?" Keiko turned to Shiori as they approached the end of a long line of people trying to get inside The Academy.

Shiori gave Keiko a blank look and adjusted her green tube top. She'd been too busy concentrating on not falling down in the new pair of Jimmy Chus after the three had exited the taxicab.

Keiko turned around and peered through the crowd of loud twenty-somethings sprawled across the sidewalk. Mitsuru stood by the street lamp flashing a kilowatt smile at a Ralph Lauren model wannabe. Laughing huskily, Mitsuru leaned over to write her phone number on the guy's forearm before sauntering over to her partners.

"Did you miss me?" Mitsuru teased.

Keiko rolled her eyes but couldn't keep the grin off her face. The girl was practically born with game.

"Are we good?" Shiori asked. Makeup check. Clothes check. Shoes check. Hair check. Purse-sized derringers check.

Striding to the front of the line, the girls blew air kisses to the bouncers and entered the hottest nightclub in the city. Flashing lights from the disco balls on the main level cut colored swatches across the girls' cheeks as they took in the scene. Techno music thumped, bodies writhed, and the deejays bumped beats across the main dance floor and two stages.

"Okay ladies—drinks first. And then, well, we'll see who's hot and who's hiding something," Shiori drawled.

The nearest bar was crowded, and the girls employed some not-so-gentle shoving to get to the counter.

"Hey gorgeous. Can I buy you a drink?" A light voice purred in Keiko's ear, jarring her from her admiration of the structure.

Keiko looked into a pair of light brown eyes, attached to Diesel jeans and a blue Armani shirt.

_This night is going to rock_. Keiko smiled at the stranger and nodded her head in assent.

---------------------------

"This sucks!" Utena wailed to no one in particular as she gazed for the hundredth time at the mountain of skirts and pants and shirts hiding her bed from sight.

Leather pants mingled with soft halter dresses and spaghetti-strap tops. Prince gave happy meows from beneath a pile of long, short, and in-between length skirts.

Utena stood in front of the floor-length mirror and wrinkled her nose. The black Capri pants and turquoise halter top looked great, but she wasn't dressing up for a night of fun damn it. She was dressing for work. She needed something… sexier. She needed to be dressed to kill. Literally.

From the age of 13, Utena had felt the second glances from the boys at school, the not-so-hidden appraisals from her bodyguards at her aunt's house.

Aunt Yurika had despaired of her basketball-loving, soccer-kicking, martial-arts training niece ever bringing home a boyfriend. Little did she know that Utena was already practicing sloppy kisses with a select few boys from the male teams who used the same practice spaces as the girls did.

Until she had kicked Touga in the head with a soccer ball during a game.

_How could I have ever thought this was going to be easy?_ Utena cringed at the thought of dressing up for Touga, trying to lure him with her body and her wits.

"Hiya Touga. I know we haven't seen each other in, oh I don't know, eight years, but I'm going to need you to talk to me and tell me all about your plans for Dios's Tears."

The reflection grinned mockingly.

With a deep sigh and a quick glance at the clock—11:03 p.m.—Utena shed the clothes and rifled through the clothes for outfit number 199. If this one didn't work out, then Dios screw it, she was going to go to the damn club anyway.

So what if Touga didn't look twice at her? She didn't want the job anyway. The Ohtoris could rot in hell for all she cared.

The ring on Utena's finger began to glow, and the flash of heat against the skin made her gasp.

_I'm not going to _not_ do it, you morons_.

Rubbing her thumb over the underside of the ring, Utena tightly shielded her thoughts and waited for the ring to cool to body temperature once more. The blood-oath tying her life to the Ohtori family for an indeterminable amount of time was getting more sensitive over the years. Just a prolonged sequence of traitorous thoughts was enough to trigger a reaction from the ring now.

Great. Just great.

She closed her eyes and grabbed a few things buried on the bed. Opening her eyes, Utena saw she had grabbed a stretchy white skirt, a backless black shirt, and some silver belts.

Sandals with the ties caressing her calves completed the outfit.

Not quite. Utena ran her finger along engraved letters on the handle of the razor-sharp stiletto knife. Her grandfather had given it to her father at age thirteen after he had killed an assassin sent by the Kyouichi family.

The knife lay nestled inside the impossibly small clutch purse. _With any luck_, Utena thought, _I'll be back in time to finish the notes for the museum tour tomorrow morning_.

------------------------------

"Hey Utena!" Shiori screeched over the booming beats on the main level of the Academy as she spotted the girl ordering a drink at one of the bars.

Utena turned her head and gave a brief polite smile. Shiori's eyes were glazed, her face glowed with perspiration, and liquor spilled from a loosely held glass.

"Did you just get here?" The girl giggled as an equally shiny boy reached over and put his hand on her hip, pulling her towards him.

_How unprofessional._ Utena sighed. Shiori did not look as if she would be getting any pertinent information on the Dragon Pearl anytime soon.

"Yes, I just got here. Have Keiko or Mitsuru met anybody . . . interesting?" Utena took a sip of her drink and directed a pained glare at Shiori.

The girl remained oblivious. "Umm, I haven't seen them in awhile. I dunno what's going on with them."

That did it. Utena grabbed Shiori's wrist and jerked her forward.

The boy sputtered in surprise, but his voice of protest died at the warning look on the woman's face.

"Listen you little twerp," Utena hissed, giving the girl a shake, "this is not supposed to be _fun_. You are here to _work_. W-O-R-K. If you shake your booty, it's to get some info or set a trap. Go screw up on somebody else's watch."

In her tipsy state Shiori could do no more than gape after Utena as she stormed into the heart of the writhing bodies on the dance floor.

Dancers sensed her before she even appeared, and men and women alike sent admiring glances to the leggy pink-haired figure in her barely-there skirt. Utena began rolling her hips to the music as quick glances noted where the security guards were stationed, the staircase to the VIP floor, and groups of people chatting or making out on the plush sofas along the periphery.

Apparently, The Academy's insanely hot and famous owner liked to make an appearance whenever he was in town. The overwhelming hordes of scantily-clad women and the large number of incognito bodyguards—Utena easily recognized the posture and strength of the elegantly dressed men scattered around the club—confirmed that tonight was probably such a night.

Now if only the bastard would just _get here _all ready.

She shrugged off the tiny stream of panic screaming to be careful what you wished for . . .

-------------------------------

Keiko plopped down on an empty cushion and removed her shoes, sighing at the temporary relief of her toes from their Baby Phat shoe bondage. The basement hip hop/reggaeton floor was just as large and just as packed as the main floor, and she had suffered several toe stompings and ass squeezes on her way to the lounging area.

Mr. Armani shirt had been a hot but awkward dancer, and she had since moved on to other guys over the next hour or so. The few bartenders on the main floor she had been able to grab for 30 second conversation were charming but unhelpful. And the master himself had yet to make an appearance, so only exclusive guests were allowed into the VIP floor as yet.

A waitress dressed in the requisite school girl attire: crotch-length plaid skirt, tiny navel-baring white collared shirt, and white knee-length socks walked by and leaned over to pick up abandoned glasses and bottles at the table next to Keiko, revealing a gorgeous red, orange, and gold bird on her lower back.

Keiko looked at the tattoo admiringly; the artist had painted it to look as if the bird had one wing made of fire, the tendrils jagged like feathers.

As the waitress straightened and turned to move on, Keiko noticed a shock of electric blue appear, a brightness that stood out in the darkened room. Searching over the grinding bodies, her eyes raised to the deejay platform, and Keiko realized the blue belonged to the young man standing behind the speakers and turntables.

Vivid blue hair topped off a muscular upper body clad in a white shirt and baggy jeans. She wouldn't even have noticed him if a ceiling light had not highlighted the platform for a few seconds before moving on to another part of the room. Keiko pushed her feet into the heels and stood up, preparing herself to wedge, squeeze, and slink her way through the sweaty bodies to get to the deejay.

She couldn't explain why she was so intent on reaching him. He looked beautiful in the shadows, so she figured he probably looked good in full light, but this wasn't just lust kicking into gear.

Deftly avoiding a hand trying to grab her chest, Keiko locked her eyes onto the boy and willed him to look up. Just staring wouldn't be enough; she dipped her finger into the small well of power she had been given by Kanae after completing her training and shoved the energy into her gaze, just like Mikage had taught her.

The boy's head jerked up as if it was on a puppet's string, and his knowing eyes quickly scanned the crowds below before they found Keiko. She was halfway across the floor by now, but looking into his eyes she felt like he was right in front of her.

And then she felt a metaphysical hand push her back, back into the crowds. Her guard was not prepared and her physical body did move back, almost until she was by the lounge again. Keiko felt a small tendril of fear begin to curl in her belly. How could she have been so overwhelmed so quickly?

But when she looked up and saw the glowing blue eyes of the deejay before he looked down at the turntables and the smirk on his face, her fear turned to irritation.

"Oh no you don't," she muttered, pushing her way onto the dance floor again. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

-------------------------------

Utena sensed him before he even entered the front door. For one second she stood frozen, earning a questioning look from her dance partner, Todd or Tom or something. But the moment passed and Utena gave Todd/Tom a smile and asked him to get her a Cuba Libre.

Entering the woman's bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her top left nothing to the imagination and a large pink freshwater pearled nestled loving in her cleavage. Her hair looked sexily tousled from dancing, and the makeup made her eyes look smoky and alluring.

"It's just a job," she chanted to herself, walking out the door. _Just a job. You're over him, he's clearly over you. Just a job. Just a job. _

The high levels of excitement radiated around the room like a gaudy rainbow, and the woman started screaming when Touga sauntered in, framed by his posse of security, rich friends, and barely-legal aged models.

He posed for pictures and gave lingering kisses to the few women lucky enough to throw themselves at him before his bodyguards stepped up and created a human barrier to block easy access to their master.

The long silky red hair. The tall lean body framed in Armani. The wicked smile that made recipients, men or women, want to wrap themselves around him. Pale blue-gray eyes that could fill with rage or lust or humor and rapidly drain to nothing.

He was walking past, a model clinging to each arm. Shuddering, Utena fought to contain the tingling of her skin. She would die a thousand deaths at the hands of a thousand swords before she would ever admit how much he affected her.

Eight years was a long time, and the abrupt end to the banishment, both self-inflicted and family-decreed, from each other's presence was creating havoc inside her. He was just so much more than he had been at sixteen. His aura glittered, his personality dazzled, and the boy who had once shunned the press had turned into a media darling. He was more polished than Utena remembered, his emotions more controlled.

An object of desire, belonging to everyone and no one. The persona had been lovingly crafted by a master, and few could guess where Touga the glitzy star ended and Touga the man began. Or if they were one and the same.

Bracing herself, Utena dropped the mind shields that hid her presence from the Kiryuu heir. The air rippled, and her body tensed briefly as her power bubbled inside and then settled again.

Only those intent on Touga's feet would have noticed his slight stumble.

"Touga." Utena whispered his name on an enchanted breath that floated straight to his ears. Her armor was back in place, and she arrogantly threw the gauntlet at the playboy's feet.

Head tilted up, Utena caught Touga's searching eyes. She raised both eyebrows and parted her lips as if to speak, and then let her tongue slowly lick her bottom lip.

Touga's eyes narrowed, and he leaned over to one of the security guards and whispered in his ear. Not looking at Utena again, Touga and his groupies walked past one of the bars and up the stairs to the VIP floor as the dancers continued to gawk and shout for pictures and kisses.

Silently applauding to herself for unsettling the hotshot and not melting into a puddle at his feet, Utena turned to walk toward a sofa and plan her next move when a large hand touched her shoulder.

She stiffened and turned to curse out the fool who thought he was trying to be cute but looked up into the hard face of the bodyguard with whom Touga had just spoken.

"If you are about to escort me from this club, then I would suggest you remove your hand before you find it on the floor by your feet." Utena stated simply.

The man gave a cocky "yeah right lady" smile but took his hand away. "Actually, I was just gonna say that Mr. Kiryuu requests your company in the Chocolate Room. Now."

And what Mr. Kiryuu wants, Mr. Kiryuu gets. The unsaid words hung in the air between them.

Utena pondered what this big man would do if she said no. As much as she wanted to knock the smug smile off his face and have him babbling for mercy at her feet, Utena figured she probably shouldn't attract negative attention to herself right now.

But she mentally noted his features and saved the information for a day in the not-so-distant future when she could kick his ass.

Pasting a fake smile on her face, Utena beamed at the bodyguard. "Ohmygod, really? Oh wow, I, like, can't believe this!"

Let him think she was some Touga worshipper Utena smiled to herself as she followed the now relaxed bodyguard past the security guards and up the stairs to the VIP floor.

-----------------------------

Keiko lined up behind the girls hanging on the stairs leading up to the deejay platform. Each made their music requests and sent lustful glances at the deejay before moving on when he didn't respond, until Keiko was standing before him.

He didn't look up. One hand pressing a headphone to his ear, the other expertly flipping through a case of records, he kept his face down and ignored Keiko's soft "umm, excuse me."

After a few more attempts, Keiko finally leaned forward until her face was practically in his neck and shouted, "Hey you!"

The boy turned his head in annoyance, but then he noticed it was her. A flash of something, maybe surprise, maybe fear, crossed his face but then was gone, to be replaced by the smirk.

"So, you made it through the jungle." He drawled.

"Yeah, no thanks to you." She returned with a tight smile. The jerk.

He started to laugh. "Well, what would you do if someone tried to compel you to do something? It wasn't very polite of you, that's for damn sure."

Keiko couldn't help but smile. His laugh made her want to laugh too, and he looked more mischievous than upset.

"Well, I kinda wanted to get your attention. Sorry about that." Keiko apologized. The inexplicable draw he had for her still whirled in her mind. She needed to make him comfortable enough to talk.

"I'm Keiko." Rather than press forward and give him a look down her top, like the other girls had tried to do, Keiko stuck out her hand.

He raised his eyebrow in surprise, but gave her a wicked grin and took her hand in his. "I'm Miki. Nice to meet cha."

Over the next half hour Keiko alternated between asking Miki about his job and throwing frozen looks at any girl who dared climb the steps and interrupt them. Miki would laugh as the girls scampered away in fright, but he never asked Keiko to stop. If anything, Keiko got the sense that he was relieved to be left alone for a while.

"So why The Academy? I mean, there a lot of really amazing clubs around here and with your talent you could have spun anywhere." Keiko casually reached over and pulled a feather from someone's crazy outfit out of Miki's hair.

Miki shrugged. "I mean, I'd done some private parties for Mr. Kiryuu before and the pay was always really good. So when he asked me to do this and threw in all these bonuses and stuff, it seemed like a good idea."

_Hmmm. So Miki knew Touga personally._ Keiko tried to read more into it, but Miki, with all his laughter and personality, was strangely . . .unreadable.

She infused the right blend of delight and awe into her voice. "You mean, you know Touga Kiryuu personally? How did you guys meet? What's he like Miki?"

Miki rolled his eyes and gave a fake groan. "Not you too Keiko. Say it ain't so!" They laughed at that, and Miki then inquired about her night.

_Was he avoiding the question?_ Keiko mentioned Mr. Armani's terrible dancing, the guys she had danced with and the run away from, and how she had "misplaced" her friends.

"So I guess you like blue." Miki offered helpfully. At Keiko's look of confusion, Miki pointed to his hair. "I've got blue hair and you practically fought threw World War III to get over here. That first dude you danced with had a blue shirt. And you are wearing the hottest little blue dress I have ever seen."

Keiko felt her face turn bright red. _Did he just say that? Dios, Dios, did he just call my dress hot?_

She tried to collect her thoughts, unnerved that that little comment could fluster her so easily. "Umm, so, yeah, tell me how you know Touga Kiryuu again?"

Miki shot her a strange look. "I already told you I deejayed at some of his private parties."

"No," Keiko tried to give a disarming smile, "I mean how did you guys meet? How did he even know you existed?"

Fading one song out while layering the opening bars of the next song, Miki turned away, a serious look on his face for the first time.

"Do we have to see to believe that anything exists? The firebird becomes eternal it is very cycle of mortality, but who can claim to actually seeing the creature?" He stated softly.

"Excuse me?" Keiko asked in confusion. What the hell was Miki talking about?

The serious look vanished, and Miki turned back to her, all laughing eyes. "Nothing babe. I was just going to say that Mr. Kiryuu attended a birthday party I did for some fashion magazine executive a couple of years ago, and he asked for my card. He's been hiring me off and on every since."

Miki shrugged it off like it was no big deal, and as Keiko opened her mouth to ask another question, he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on her lips.

Gaping from the unexpected move, Keiko just stared at him, her next question gone in a haze of embarrassment.

"I hope you don't think I'm cheeky, but I've been dying to do that since you got here." Miki grinned smugly.

Keiko shook her head slowly and returned Miki's grin. Inside though, she couldn't help but wonder whether Miki's kiss had been a genuine desire or a strategic maneuver worthy of an Ohtori general. What in Dios's name had Miki been talking about? And why did she get the sense that he was hiding something from her?

--------------------------

The Chocolate Room was nestled between the Champagne Room and the Principle's Office. Boxes of chocolates rested on every oak table and chocolate fountains surrounded by fruit, cakes, and liquor drew one's attention to the center of the room.

A Jacuzzi and sauna in the corner complemented the exotic jungle flowers placed around furniture, and a discreet chocolate massage could be held behind a gold-leaf folding screen.

Lit candles positioned around the room created an atmosphere of elegance and intimacy.

The perfect room for seduction.

The Champagne Room had been noisy, but when Utena entered the Chocolate Room, she was surprised to notice no one inside. She had expected Touga would want to meet her in a crowd, surrounded by his adoring fans as he attempted to break her. And she'd been ready for it.

But this . . . never one to let good chocolate go to waste, Utena dipped a strawberry into the chocolate fountain and moaned at the delicious taste exploding in her mouth.

_I'll say one thing for you Touga_, she thought as she picked up some pound cake, _you can sure pick your chocolate._

Minutes passed, and Utena began to wonder if this had been Touga's plan all along. Pay her back for daring to encroach on _his_ territory by making her squirm. Alone.

Fuck this. Utena grabbed a couple of chocolate-covered cherries and began walking toward the door when a voice floated from behind her.

"Where are you going, princess?"

Turning swiftly, Utena saw Touga finish wrapping a towel around his waist and walk toward her from behind the folding screen.

Eight years. Utena just stared, traitorous eyes eating up every inch of Touga's exposed chest and legs. _Too long_ her spirit chided, _it's been too long. _

"Nowhere, I guess." Her voice came out cool and steady. She let her eyes run up the length of Touga's body, making sure he noticed what she was doing.

Utena took a step forward. "Hello Touga." She had to fight from bursting out laughing. Touga's face had looked amused, but at her perusal the look turned to one of confusion. Now there was just wariness.

The bird and the cat faced each other and planned their next moves.

Touga remained where he was. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence at my club tonight?"

Utena took another step forward. "Do I need a reason to go out, have fun? This place is supposed to be the hottest club in town." She turned her head and ran a finger along her necklace, drawing attention to the pearl and her cleavage.

Touga stared at her in disbelief and then started laughing. And laughing.

Utena didn't move and kept her expression blank, although inside she seethed. Was he making fun of her? Was the bastard laughing _at _her?

"I'm sorry Princess," Touga chuckled, turning to grab a chocolate martini resting on a tray. "It's not that you aren't trying, 'cause if I were any other man I'd have you on that couch on top of me right about now, but this is me." He sobered. "And we have a history."

_Dios, that is the understatement of the year_. Despite Touga's words, Utena was far from being offended. In fact, she was relieved that after all these years she could still judge him accurately. He had challenged her obvious attempts, just as she wanted him to, and now assumed she'd come about their past. Perfect.

Utena sighed. "We do have a history Touga, and believe me I have no intention of demanding an apology or rehashing all of that—"

"An apology? From me?" Touga latched onto the idea, glad to release some of the tension that had been gripping his body since he'd felt Utena's aura downstairs.

"After what you did to me, don't you dare come here and start talking like what happened back then was my fault little girl." Touga strode over to Utena, forcing her to take a step back. He felt instantly better being on the offensive. Being back in control.

"After what _I _did?" What in Dios's name was Touga talking about? It had been all _his_ fault—

he looked like he was spoiling for a fight and Dios help her so was she. But…she needed to focus. Utena changed tactics.

"I just really needed to see you again." She brushed back her hair and looked at Touga out of the corner of her eye. Her simple statement had halted his tirade. But the wariness remained.

"Why?" He bit out. What was The Tenjou up to now? For that's who stood before him, sleek and proud in her position as head of one of the ancient feuding families. Not the laughing girl who would push against him during a basketball game, who trembled so deliciously in his arms the first time they kissed.

He knew her too well for her to lie outright. "I've been…dreaming. Of you. Of my parents." The grief that colored the words was all too real, and years of training could not prevent Utena's voice from wobbling.

Dios, she _really_ hadn't wanted him to see her like this. It was the ultimate irony that this vulnerability would probably do more for advancing her mission with him than a show of steel and toughness.

Candlelight caused Touga's hair to glow liquid fire as he stood, a still marble statue but for the sympathy and suspicion warring in his eyes.

Utena felt a shadow caress on her cheek yet Touga kept his distance, reigning in his power after a few precious moments.

Seconds passed. Hushed breathing was the only faint sound in the room as Utena and Touga stared at each other, Utena's raw words filling the giant space between them like a fraying bridge across a canyon.

And then the bridge snapped. "I cannot help you." Touga stated. He hesitated, as if to speak more, but just pressed his lips into a thin line and walked past Utena, past The Tenjou, past his child bride.

She remained standing until the door gave a quiet click behind Touga.

I. Cannot. Help. You. Each word pierced her spirit like nails hammered into a coffin, and now that she was truly alone, The Tenjou collapsed onto a lush ottoman. The trembling began in her legs and traveled up her back until her whole body was shaking.

The first time in eight years. Eight fucking years. And he doesn't fall for her siren act, he doesn't respond when she really reveals a glimpse of her inner pain, and he doesn't appear to want anything to do with her every again.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. _Utena slammed the palm of her hand against her forehead. What had she been thinking, trying to maneuver the firebird in his own lair? He was used to women throwing themselves at him, and he would know that she would never approach him of her own free will.

But she had been so sure that sharing a tart mix of a little truth stirred with a splash of pain and a squeeze of past comfort would make him at least willing to talk to her . . .

And what about that comment that the whole painful fiasco had been her fault? She wasn't the one who had struck the deal with The Kiryuu, she wasn't the one who had hired the car to kidnap herself for Dios's sake, in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm, no less.

Head aching, heartsick but refusing to yield an inch to even one happy memory of a time when she and Touga could not be in the same room without touching, Utena grabbed a bottle of Godiva White Chocolate Liqueur and poured herself a hefty glass.

_I feel like the jilted lover in one of those 1940s flicks. The dame left standing in the rain, _Utena sneered at herself. Well, if she was a jilted woman than she had better act like one and proceed to drink herself into oblivion.

----------------------------

"Hey, lady, the club's closing." The bartender snapped his fingers in front of the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Shiny pink hair framed a pale face with striking blue eyes, impossibly long eyelashes, and glossy lips.

Unfortunately, the eyes were puffy, as if the woman had been crying, and the number of shot glasses lining the bar in front of her suggested that her increasingly failed attempts at muscle control may be alcohol-related.

"Miss," the bartender's voice softened, "Miss, would you like me to call you a cab?"

_Damn this worthless mortal body_. The essence of Tenjou raged inside the drunk girl, but not even an ancient power could fight the seduction of drinking one's pain away.

Utena heard the man's words through a haze and gave a slight nod of her head. The night had gone from bad to worse, and here she was doing exactly what she had cursed Shiori about only hours before. She was such a hypocrite.

The bartender stepped around the bar and went to get one of the security guards booming at the dancers to "get the hell out, the club's closed."

Just as the guard went over to gently helped the exquisite creature off the bar stool and over to a waiting taxi outside, the Kiryuu party came downstairs from the VIP floor, some of the drunk models stumbling on the arms of Touga's associates.

The security guard hesitated. Every time Mr. Kiryuu entered a room in the club, the security detail for that room had to check in and receive any updates or briefs before being released to their stations. Glancing at the pink-haired woman, he gathered she would be safe enough sitting at the bar for another couple of minutes.

The main floor grew quite as the crowds of revelers exited the building, until only the security guards, Touga, and his "guests"' were left.

"Get me three limos," Touga ordered one of his personal assistants, his unbuttoned shirt fluttering as he moved. He gave his guests a seductive smirk. "We're going to the Greenhouse."

The models tittered in excitement at the idea of visiting such a risqué establishment, and the men nudged each other knowingly. There'd be plenty of action at The Kyouichi gentleman's club.

"Yes Sir, right away Sir." One assistant flipped open his cell phone and began barking commands, and another rushed to grab 3 bottles of the expensive Maotai liquor from the nearby bar, Mr. Kiryuu's current favorite drink when en route.

Not noticing the leg of the bar stool, the rushed man found his foot caught along the smooth wood and pitched forward, crashing to the ground beneath the stool and the woman sitting in it.

Oomph! One second Utena sat daydreaming, imagining the utter bliss of her goose-down comforter and the next she laid sprawled on the ground on top of a stunned male body. The stool had banged into her hip bone on the way down, and she laid still, the pain from her hip adding more fuzziness to the liquor-induced haze.

Touga's head turned at the crashing sound, and he saw one of his assistants lying on the floor with a woman sprawled on top of him. A woman with unusual pink hair and a short white skirt that exposed way too much of her gorgeous gams.

And she wasn't moving. Before his heart could make its next beat, Touga was across the room on his knees. Gently touching a red mark that was blooming across Utena's face, Touga leaned closer.

"Utena." Touga couldn't keep the urgent note out of his voice. "Utena, are you all right?"

Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a second Touga could have sworn she was about to respond, but the eyes closed again and Utena sank limply back to the floor.

"I'm sorry Sir, I didn't see her, I mean I didn't notice—" The poor man looked ready to faint at the glare being leveled at him. His boss was not exactly known for second chances.

"Don't move." Touga hissed. He placed one hand under her neck and another beneath her knees, rolling her over and picking her up in one smooth motion.

Walking over to the group, he balanced Utena more comfortably in his arms and gave new orders to an assistant to get another limo to take him and his "friend" to his new penthouse.

The models whined when they realized he was not going to the Greenhouse with them, but when Touga handed them passes for a private show complete with full-body rubs, the group promptly forgot about him and piled into the waiting limos outside.

Shaking his head at the obviousness of groupies, Touga cradled Utena in his lap the entire ride to the six-star hotel. The bruise on her cheek stood out starkly on her pale face, and her breath and clothes reeked of sweet liquor. But her body was instant recognition, and he struggled not to crush her towards him in a greedy grasp of need.

This unconscious beauty, this backstabbing bitch was his other half and eight years apart hadn't changed a damn thing.

_I will fight this_, Touga said to himself as he carried Utena out of the private elevator leading to his penthouse apartment. _I will fight this_, the Kiryuu heir repeated as he laid her pliant body on the bed.

Frowning at the sticky wetness of her clothes—she had probably fallen into spilled alcohol on the floor—Touga's internal debate lasted a few seconds before the devil in him had her clothes off and a wet washcloth in hand to soothe her skin.

His hand trembled as he drew the cool cloth across her skin, but Touga kept his hand from lingering too long over any one body part. Until he got to her stomach.

The shock of seeing his ring, their ring, on a thin chain around her belly forced him to remove his hand as if burnt by fire. Which was laughable really, when his very essence was that of fire and heat. But Touga was not laughing.

Her lips had trembled and her eyes had teared up when he had slipped the modest pink diamond ring onto her finger.

But the very last time he had seen her, her lips had been curled in a mean sneer and her eyes and taunted him as she hurled abuses at him, rebuked him. Crushed him and his willing heart.

And their ring had been no where in site.

But here it lay, hanging from a simple, sexy silver belly chain that appeared to have no clasp, as if the wearer wasn't planning on removing it. Ever.

Touga could not take his eyes off the twinkling gem, and he didn't notice for a full five minutes that his thumb was brushing along the chain as if tracing a scar.

-----------------------

Thanks for the reviews of Chapter 1!


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